


Skies of Powdered Gold

by ANTchan



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, Prompt Fic, SniperPilot Spring, trapped during a storm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 17:44:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14549976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ANTchan/pseuds/ANTchan
Summary: Prompt: Sunflowers – The dedication toweather all stormstogether and emerge victorious on the other sideUnrepentant fluff. Idiot, pining boys cuddling during a storm on a far off planet.





	Skies of Powdered Gold

**Author's Note:**

> It was suggested that I take the "weathering all storms" part of the prompt literally and I'm ABSOLUTELY here for that. Please accept these two pining while snuggling. Because they're both idiots that I adore.

Nayru, their local contact on Kirima, arrives suddenly at their lodgings one bright afternoon, speeder loaded down with plastoid sheeting, equipment, and several boxes of what looks to be food supplies. Bodhi watches from the window, stiff and wary, as Cassian leaves the modest house to greet her, careful to keep the tension out of his own posture.

“That’s a lot of hardware.” His tone is light, belying the way his mind is racing with terrifying possibilities of compromised missions and hasty escapes.

He and Bodhi have been entrenched on the otherwise peaceful Mid Rim planet of Kirima for about a week, sent to assess the planet’s viability as an ally and establish contact. It has good resources, lax Imperial occupancy, and a local government with only a rote loyalty to the Empire. Establishing relations with the local guilds, if not the monarchy itself, would be beneficial to the Rebels, who are in desperate need of both allies and supplies.

Cassian’s had more than adequate experience with recruiting for the Alliance, for building supply lines. And by all accounts, making contact with Rebel leaning groups and beginning to negotiate aid had been simple. Simple, at least, in comparison to the (several) near death experiences of the last few years.

_“This feels more like a vacation,” Bodhi laughs one evening, after three days of relative peace and inactivity. He’s sprawled across one of the lounges in the garden, the cool wind combing through his hair. Just watching him makes Cassian ache for things he doesn’t know how to ask for._

_“It does.” Cassian chews on the next thought for a breath. And then grumbles, “I hate it.”_

_It’s so quiet here on Kirima. Not even the mission is enough to keep him occupied for long, and it only makes him think about things he certainly doesn’t deserve._

_“Yeah,” Bodhi sighs, “me too.”_

Nayru casts him a sidelong glance as she climbs out of the speeder. “Well, no one pre-fitted this place for the storm season, so someone has to if you two are set on staying,” she says in heavily accented Basic.

“Storm season?” he parrots.

It causes her to peer over her shoulder at him from where she’s unstrapping her cargo, arching a brow. “Did those fancy bosses of yours not tell you about Kirima’s storms?” She takes his silence as answer enough, and hauls a sheet of reinforced plastoid from the bed of the speeder. “Right. I’ll be helping you close up. You two can thank me when you don’t get the roof blown off.”

He doesn’t comment as she shoulders past him up the path towards the house.

\-------------------------

The dossier Cassian had been given contained all pertinent information for their mission - the list of resources Kirima exports to the Empire, the average total tonnage of goods the Empire takes as tribute, the names and backgrounds of the planet’s most influential guild leaders.

(The file Bodhi had received contained significantly _less_ information. Something Bodhi had met with long suffering acceptance, and Cassian with quietly simmering bitterness. He hadn’t needed to chew Draven out over the move - which would have no doubt stretched the long leash Draven keeps him on. But his glare had spoken more than enough.)

Any information on the climate and culture of the planet in the report had been brief, almost an afterthought. He and Bodhi were not to pose as natives, but foreign guild representatives, after all.

He sits in their newly reinforced dwelling, scrolling through the encrypted dossier while casting dubious glances at the sheets of thick plastoid fixed over the windows. “ _Climate is mild, with only two seasons,_ ” he mutters as he reads. “ _A moderate dry season and humid wet season, with high rainfall.”_

That’s all it says.

Up until now the weather had been just as peaceful as everything else on the planet. Cool and mild, with clear skies. But Nayru had been almost frantic in her attempts to reinforce the house, all but throwing the supplies at him once the windows and doors were covered and the grounding generator up.

And there was no denying that the wind had started to pick up as she was leaving.

Cassian steadies himself, and reaches for the commlink. Bodhi had gone out after Nayru left, to ensure their ship is properly secured in the town’s shuttle bay if the storms really are as dangerous as Nayru implied. But that was nearly an hour ago. “Bo,” he says into it, “did you make it to the shuttle?” All he receives from the other end is the soft burble of static. “Bo, do you read me?”

Still nothing. Cassian climbs to his feet, tossing the datapad and the commlink back onto the chair with more force than is called for. He finds himself pacing about the house, shoving belongings back into place and listening to the growing wind outside.

With no windows to peer out of, he goes and opens the door instead. Only to discover that the bright, clear sky of Kirima has turned a sickly gray-green. The clouds roil overhead, and in the distance appear dark as night. He flinches back as a strong gust of wind whips by the house, and quickly shuts the door against it.

He grabs the comm from his chair with considerable haste this time. “Bodhi,” he calls, not even caring about his slip of Bodhi’s cover. “Come on…”

The first torrent of rain slams into the house without warning, the sound of it pounding against the walls almost exactly like a barrage of blaster fire striking durasteel. It does nothing to help Cassian's nerves. It only grows stronger and _louder_ \- the first peal of thunder rolling overhead, so deep that Cassian can feel it in his bones.

By the time the frantic knocking comes at the door, Cassian has been seriously considering going out in search of his pilot. Cassian is across the room and wrenching the door open even before it finishes, cringing as the rain pours through it. He catches only a glimpse of Bodhi's soaked, shaking form and twists a hand in Bodhi’s shirt to pull him into the safety of the house.

They stumble together as Cassian has to use his full body weight against the door to force it shut. Bodhi’s hand on his shoulder as he tries to steady himself is ice cold, sending an unpleasant shiver down Cassian’s spine.

“You’re freezing,” he hisses.

“S-Sorry.” Bodhi steps away as surely as if Cassian has threatened him. “I was trying to keep ahead of the storm, but it’s… stars, it was so _fast_.”

“Bodhi…” Cassian starts, searching for words of apology only to be derailed by the catch of Bodhi’s dark eyes on his. His mind goes traitorously blank, and all he can come up with is a weak, “Was the shuttle alright?”

“What? O-Oh, yes. The shuttle’s fine. The docking bay had everything under control. They’re ah… much more prepared than we were,” he lets out a quiet laugh. “Apparently this is normal for them. Who knew.”

As if in answer, there’s a crack of thunder somewhere overhead, a deafening boom that shakes the house and has Cassian’s heart leaping perilously into his throat. Bodhi’s hand clenches on his arm, almost to the point of bruising.

“Maybe we should go into another room,” Cassian suggests, his voice nearly drowned out in the echo of thunder about of them. “That’s supposed to be safer, right?” Bodhi shrugs. He’s still dripping onto the floor, his hair falling from its ponytail and plastered to his face. His clothes are twisted and sticking to his form as he turns. It has to be uncomfortable, but all Cassian can think of is how the lithe lines of his body are no longer hidden by his consistently modest clothes.

He clears his throat to shake off the, highly inappropriate, thoughts that cloud his mind. “You should get into something dry, or else you’ll catch your death.”

“Think I’m more in danger of catching _death_ when the house caves in on us,” Bodhi mutters with a wry smile, and, much as it has been for the entire week, Cassian’s eyes are drawn to it.

They end up retreating into Bodhi’s room, and Cassian busies himself with gathering blankets and datapads while Bodhi changes out of his soaked clothes. It keeps his eyes where they should be, and not where Bodhi is dutifully stripping down to his boxers and muttering quiet, barely heard curses as he dries off.

Most of the week has been this way - not the storms, no. But keeping his eyes off of his friend is even more of a challenge when they aren’t fighting for their lives or running themselves into the grave.

If Cassian wasn’t such a coward, they might have been past this by now.

“This’ll be cozy.”

He looks up from his half constructed, and there’s no other word for it, _blanket nest_ on the bed to find Bodhi has padded over to him, now clothed in soft sleep pants and a baggy shirt, a towel slung around his shoulders to keep his hair from dripping.

It’s only marginally better than before. Now Bodhi just looks unbearably soft with his hair tumbling around his shoulders.

It’s not the thunder overhead that has Cassian jittering nearly out of his skin this time.

“You looked cold,” he defends weakly. “You _still_ look cold.” He summons whatever bravado and dignity he has left, gesturing at the gooseflesh still prickling along Bodhi’s arms.

“I didn’t say I was complaining!” Bodhi climbs into the mound of blankets with only the slightest bit of grace. Cassian watches him tuck himself into them, unsure of what he’s meant to do until Bodhi peers up at him and pats the spot on the bed beside him.

“You sure?”

His question is punctuated by a gust of wind hitting the house so hard that it seems like the very walls groan in pain.

Bodhi’s eyes gleam nervously. Is it because of the storm outside, or the thought of being close to him? “Please?”

Cassian can do nothing but obey, not that he would ever desire anything else. He slides into the little cocoon of blankets that Bodhi has folded around himself, hesitating for one breath too many before settling into his side. For a breathless moment not even the storm can break the spell that falls over them. Everything is blissfully at peace as Bodhi tucks the blankets tighter around them, and Cassian shifts to let Bodhi curl into him.

They haven’t been this close since _it_ happened. Since this thing that has been growing between them had welled up and burst.

\-------------------------

_The air smells like ash and salt around them, like fire and blood and metal. Where only a moment ago there were explosions and starfighters screaming above them, now a roar has come up from over the hill. The comms of passing ground troops echo through the clearing:_

_**“Imps are in retreat! Repeat: Imperial forces are in retreat! Rally all forces at point--”** _

_“We did it,” Bodhi wheezes next to him. His gasps sound wet, slightly sickly. Somewhere in the back of Cassian’s mind jumps to everything from inhaled toxins to internal injuries. But the shock and rushing adrenaline drowns it all out._

_“We did,” he agrees numbly._

_There’s a shriek of an X-wing above them. Cassian’s able to glimpse the Rogue Squadron insignia before it races off towards the front line for another pass. After being entrenched on Gerrard V for weeks, after being besieged and scrapping from breath to breath… they’d finally broken the Imperial line._

_A soft laugh at his side shakes him from his daze. It’s more of a croak than an actual laugh, giddy and more than a little wavering. Bodhi sways into his shoulder, and Cassian can feel the tremor that is just as much from the fear and adrenaline as it is from the joy. His smile is as bright as the desert sun._

_He’s reached for Bodhi before it even registers. When Bodhi’s laugh dies, it’s on Cassian’s lips - a sharp gasp and parted, chapped lips. Bodhi tastes like dust and heat, and everything feels like it’s flying apart in the span of a breath. And if there’s a moment where his mind could catch up with his actions, with the way he’s just fisted a hand in Bodhi’s ripped uniform and pulled him in for the kiss, it’s shattered by the twist of Bodhi’s hand in his hair. Bodhi surges against him, sending them both reeling against the rocky outcrop they’d been hunkered in the shadow of._

_**“-ian. ...Cassian! Andor, if you’re dead, I swear I’m going to get Skywalker to bring you back with his Force voodoo just so I can murder you again. Come in!”** _

Not even Jyn’s voice crackling over the comm can fully break them from this desperate spell. They freeze, still tangled and half slumped against the rocks, panting against each other’s mouths. One of them is shaking - maybe both of them.

_Eventually Cassian has to reach for his commlink, turning his head away. He does his best to ignore the sudden absence of Bodhi’s heat as the pilot steps back. Instead he brings the comm up and speaks urgently into it. “We’re here, Jyn. What’s your status?” Force, his voice sounds wrecked even to his own ears._

_The moment is broken, finally, leaving Cassian’s head spinning. Bodhi’s eyes are on the crest of the hill ahead. If not for the slick shine on his lips and the flush on his cheeks, Cassian would almost wonder if this hasn’t been a strange, waking dream._

_There’s no time to discuss the kiss, whose ghost still tingles on Cassian’s lips. There’s barely even time to **acknowledge** it, because they’re mounting the crest of the hill and following their squad. Rogue One is waiting for them._

_They can talk about it later, once the battle is over._

\-------------------------

Of course, they never discussed it later. It’s been nearly a month since the liberation of Gerrard V, and Cassian has yet to find a way to broach the subject.

Sometimes, in the dead of night when his constantly racing mind has run out of things to think about, he’d wondered if maybe Bodhi preferred it that way.

It’s hard to think that now, with Bodhi tucked into his side, the pair of them curled together with a stupid holovid playing on the datapad between them. The storm has slowly gotten worse outside, but for the moment everything feels safe. Bodhi’s head isn’t _quite_ resting on Cassian’s shoulder, but it’s close. He’d stopped shivering several minutes ago, but so far he’s made no move to pull away. And it’s… nice.

It’s peaceful and it’s warm, in ways that have nothing to do with sharing body heat.

Cassian shifts, daring to slide his arm around Bodhi’s waist a little more securely, and his heart leaps when Bodhi nestles closer. His cheek presses into Cassian’s shoulder, so sweet that Cassian is ready to break then and there.

“This is nice,” Bodhi murmurs against his shoulder.

Cassian has to bite back an hysterical laugh at the parallel of his own thoughts. “Yeah, it is.” Something dangerously like hope blooms in his chest. He’s keenly aware of how his hands want to shake, how every part of him calls to just gather Bodhi up and kiss him until there’s no question about where they stand. And it would be so _easy_ with Bodhi warm and pliant in his arms.

“Maybe the storm won’t be so bad like this,” Cassian says, doing his best to keep the waver out of his voice. The beat of silence that follows is torturous, if only to him. The words rest on the tip of his tongue, begging to be said. “Bodhi…”

He’s interrupted by a crackling of thunder, so explosive and ear piercing that he’s sure it’s struck the shielding. The pair of them nearly leap from the bed only to tangle in the blankets, hands clinging to one another.

And then the lights go out.

The pitch darkness of the room is only broken by the light from the datapad, which has been kicked off the bed in their failed scramble. The very air tastes of electricity, and he can feel his own racing heart echoed in Bodhi’s pressed against his ribs.

“S-Shit, _Cass!_ ” Bodhi tries to snarl, but it comes out trembling. He pokes Cassian in the side for good measure. “You said it! Why would you _say it?_ ”

“Sorry, sorry!” Cassian drags a hand over his face, willing his heartbeat to stop trying to break through his ribs. He listens to the wind howl outside for a few moments, before wondering aloud: “Should I check if the shield is still up?”

Bodhi turns on the bed, propping his chin on Cassian’s chest to peer up at him. Cassian can barely see the gleam of his soulful eyes in the dark. And he’s all too aware of the warm line of him pressed up against his side. “You can’t actually be considering going out there,” Bodhi says.

“...I don’t want to, no,” he admits.

He feels rather than sees Bodhi press his face to his chest. His whisper of “Good… stay with me,” almost gets lost in the snarl of the storm. Almost. And there’s no possibility that Bodhi _can’t_ feel the racing of his heart from where his head is resting on Cassian’s chest. But if he does, he doesn’t mention it.

He loses track of how long they lay in the dark listening to the storm. It shows no sign of letting up, and though the sides of the house groan enough to set Cassian’s teeth on edge, they withstand the wind and the blasting rain. Bodhi goes tense as another crack of thunder splits the air. His hand twists in Cassian’s shirt until it passes.

“Don’t like storms?”

“I’m not-- not usually,” Bodhi answers weakly. “I don’t mind them. I was based out of Eadu for nearly two years. But...”

Cassian nods, though he knows Bodhi can’t see it. “This is worse than any on Eadu,” he agrees. “I don’t like it much either. But it’s better, with you here.” His words lose their confidence towards the end, trailing off in barely a murmur. Bodhi’s arm tightens around his waist, pressing himself into Cassian’s side with more insistence. Cassian can feel him turning his face into his chest, almost nuzzling against him. And Cassian finds that he’s not strong enough to keep up this charade anymore.

His arm comes around Bodhi’s shoulders in a loose embrace, fingers combing through his soft, damp hair. He’s close enough now that Cassian can smell the rain on him, the slightly electric tang of Kirima’s air. He turns into it, burying his nose in Bodhi’s hair and breathing him in. And after a moment of stillness, Bodhi melts into the embrace all at once with a quiet sigh.

“Cassian…”

“Hm?”

“I didn’t think…” He seems to wrestle with the words, leaving Cassian waiting on bated breath. He would grant any wish Bodhi could ask in this moment. He would _break_ if Bodhi asked him to. He thinks, not for the first time, that he would gladly give Bodhi anything.

But Bodhi doesn’t ask for anything - no, because he’s understanding and kind, and is one of the few people who actually _sees_ Cassian. Instead the only thing he does is offer. He tips his head up, the warmth of his breath fanning against Cassian’s jaw. His mouth tingles at the proximity, with the urge to close the scant gap that he can’t see in the darkness, but can feel like a physical touch.

And Bodhi waits, lets Cassian decide if he wants to take what is so freely being offered. As if he could ever say no.

The storm outside may as well be a thousand miles away, as he dips his head to accept the kiss, a sweet, chaste little thing that still sets him alight. It’s nothing like their first kiss all those weeks ago - that had been desperation and dust, exhilaration and sweat. And yet this kiss is somehow _more_. It feels like flying. Like being shot out into hyperspace.

He pulls away but only for a moment, finding he can’t help but press a second kiss to the corner of Bodhi’s mouth. It’s like being trapped in his gravitational pull - difficult to escape. And he’s not even sure he wants to.

“I wasn’t sure you wanted this,” Bodhi whispers, similarly unwilling to pull away. “After the battle you never…”

The uncertain waver in his voice is too much for Cassian, and he cups the back of Bodhi’s neck and brings him impossibly closer, pressing his forehead to Bodhi’s. “I did. I _do_ ,” he says fiercely. “I’ve been… trying to figure out how to tell you how much I want you.”

He feels the smile in the gentle kiss brushed to his lips. “Yeah? You can tell me now.” It’s teasing and affectionate, and Cassian’s heart is ready to burst at the sound.

“I would… I would go through a lifetime of these storms, as long as you were with me.”

All of the breath seems to leave Bodhi at once. A hand caresses his face in the dark, kisses being fanned over his lips, his cheek. “I would too,” Bodhi whispers.

They curl together in the darkness, in their own little cocoon of warmth.

The storm can no longer touch them here.

**END.**


End file.
